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“You’re such a fucking dick,” I say to him as I push Maggie out of the office. “No one says a word about those pictures until I’m back.” I slam the door, not that you can hear it over Maggie’s cries, and wheel her down the corridor to the restrooms. I pass a sheepish-looking Pearl. “You free?”
“Yeah,” she breathes, bringing the bag.
“Ignore him,” I tell her over my shoulder, reaching over Maggie’s pram and pushing the door open, wheeling her in.
“I’m trying,” she says quietly, looking back at the office. “I don’t know what his problem is.”
I laugh under my breath. “You don’t want to.”
“What?”
“Nothing. Pass me her changing mat.”
“What’s happened?”
“Nothing for you to worry about. This floor been cleaned?”
“Yes, a few hours ago.”
I accept the mat and roll it out on the floor. It’s not ideal, but baby-changing facilities aren’t the norm in a strip joint. I lay Maggie down and pull the poppers of her sleepsuit open, pulling her legs out. “I thought you were with Rose.”
“She got a call from the school.”
I look up, stalling in my task. Rose got a call? But I’m the first contact. And then I remember. My phone’s dead. Because it’s been bugged. More questions. “Tell me Tank went with her.”
Pearl smiles. “And Beau.”
I nod, not feeling particularly reassured—what the fuck’s happened?—and get back to the business of Maggie’s shitty nappy. And boy is it shitty. “Jesus Christ,” I mumble, wiping her up. “Where the hell does it come from?”
Pearl laughs and passes me the cream. “Do you want me to watch her for a while?”
“I’d say yes, but her mother would tear me to shreds if she found out I’d palmed her off on anyone.” I give Pearl a raised brow. “Besides, aren’t you supposed to be working? Let’s not give Brad any more reason to be a grumpy arsehole.” I notice a gold ring in the corner of Pearl’s lip, and she reaches for it, fiddling with the delicate piece of jewelry.
“I had it re-pierced.”
“Because they removed it,” I say, swallowing, and she nods, only very mildly. The hell Rose went through, what happened to Pearl. I look down at Maggie. She’s suddenly quiet now, looking up at me. Her blue eyes are so clear. No hurt, no damage, no comprehension of the world she’s been born into. Fucking hell, I have a whole new level of disgust and anger now. It’s bad enough my wife became a victim of that darkness. My daughter? My stomach turns, and I once again wonder how many of the fuckers are still out there. Gangs like that don’t just disappear.
I accept the nappy Pearl’s holding out to me and get Maggie in it, wrestling with her little legs to get them back in the sleepsuit. “Can I ask you something?”
“Depends what it is?” Pearl gets up onto the counter, waiting.
I fasten the last popper and pick Maggie up, and she burps, her whole little body relaxing, as does mine, the relief immeasurable. “Good girl,” I breathe, offering her the bottle again. This time, she takes it, no fight or drama. “What was so terrible back home that makes living here in Miami with mafia and danger around every corner so appealing?” Not to mention the fact that Brad’s a complete arsehole toward her. Who the fuck would stick around to be treated like that?
She nibbles at the gold ring in her lip, apprehensive. “My parents were murdered.”
“I know,” I say automatically, my tone lacking any empathy. “And that made you skip the country?”
“I couldn’t stay in my parents’ house anymore. Not after that.”
So she left and went traveling, and then traffickers took her in Romania. “You’re scared,” I say. She nods. And now she feels safe here. It’s ironic, really. “Were you there when it happened?”
She shakes her head.
“So you found?—”
Brad bursts in, looking all impatient, his mouth open and loaded ready to fire some fucks. It snaps shut when he sees Pearl.
She starts to shift uncomfortably on the counter. “Would you like me to watch Maggie while you deal with whatever needs dealing with?” she asks.
